


Mirror, Mirror

by Yusuke (foxjar)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, First Time, Glove Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Kurusu Akira & Phantom Thieves of Hearts, Mirrors, Nipple Play, Post-Canon, Self-cest, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-13 17:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17491808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/Yusuke
Summary: It starts innocuously one day — when Akira sees Joker in the mirror. It becomes an issue when Joker ends up being all that Akira can think about.





	Mirror, Mirror

**Author's Note:**

  * For [habenaria_radiata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/habenaria_radiata/gifts).



> habenaria_radiata included [this set of really wonderful pictures for the pairing](https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=67669853) in their prompts, by [さげお on Pixiv](https://www.pixiv.net/member.php?id=27581690). The artist's works were really inspiring for me as I worked on this fic.
> 
> The story takes place a while after the game ends, when the characters are over eighteen.

Akira returns to Tokyo at the end of a warm, rainy May. It is the earliest he is able to make it, and with midterms over, school is out for a few days before resuming for the second semester of the year. Even Makoto's break from college aligns with everyone else's time off, so the group decided to meet up at Leblanc and celebrate birthdays. So far in the year, Yusuke, Akira, Futaba, and Makoto have all had their birthdays pass, and this is their chance to observe them all at once.

Akira was able to convince his friends to let him handle his own travel accommodations this time. While the taxi fee is exorbitant, and his butt is numb by the time he arrives in Tokyo, it is worth it. The last thing he wants to do is inconvenience everyone, no matter how deeply his desire to see them might run.

When Akira makes it to Leblanc, everyone is there to greet him. As they all cram into one of the booths, Futaba pulls up a bar stool to observe her friends from a distance. They have a simple meal of eggs over rice, served with the usual Leblanc-style coffee, and talk about everything that has happened in the past month. Despite staying in contact through texting and phone calls, there is still a lot to catch up on. His friends make sure to explain any inside joke or reference that comes up — he has missed a lot, after all — and Akira does not feel an inch out of place.

With the celebration officially starting tomorrow, the group starts to thin out late in the evening to give Akira a chance to rest after his trip. His attic room is the same as he remembers it: the floorboards creak and the dust coating every surface makes him sneeze. Akira wonders how so much can be the same as it had been a month ago, and yet so different; the room feels so familiar and comforting, despite it no longer belonging to him.

Sojiro tells him that he has not had the heart to change anything in the room, and Akira smiles. Even the posters Akira left behind are still hanging on the walls, although they are covered in dust, like everything else in the room. Even though Akira left Tokyo a month ago, this place is still his home.

With Morgana curled up against him — the warmth digging into his leg a constant reminder of his companionship — Akira falls asleep.

In the morning, the celebration begins. Akira hears his friends before he sees them: the chime as the door to Leblanc opens, the poor attempts at keeping their voices down, and the inevitable crash as someone drops something. It has only been a month, and yet Akira has become so accustomed to living life on his own terms; the arrival of his friends so early in the morning is a breath of fresh air. Deciding that now would be the best time to make his appearance — preferably before he has to wake up to Yusuke prodding his shoulder — he greets everyone with a quick "good morning" before heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

For a moment, as he is squeezing out his toothpaste, he sees something in the corner of his eye: a flash of red from his reflection in the mirror. When he looks up, there is nothing out of place other than the toothpaste that is about to fall to the floor. Ever since he left Tokyo, he has felt a sort of loneliness that he always thought stemmed from not being able to see his friends everyday like he used to. Now, a chill crawls up his spine as the room becomes stuffy, as if there are multiple people crammed together in the small room. He is alone, and yet he is not. It reminds him of when his life was so closely wound with the existence of the Metaverse — when there was that other side of him, so similar to him and yet so different.

That other side of Akira has not been here since the Metaverse was closed off, and yet he feels something wrap around his throat; snug like a well-worn necklace. It is not enough to make him gag, but it serves as a reminder for the rest of the day that something is not quite right.

The ex-Phantom Thieves spend the day weaving throughout Tokyo, visiting many of their old hideouts to reminisce. They stop by the theater to catch a movie, and Akira is able to put the strange feeling from earlier behind him as he spends time with his friends. The day is turning out to be more about Akira, as they even eat out at the restaurants they once frequented, but no one is complaining, so he figures his friends must have planned this. He almost feels like a tourist, despite once having known these places so well.

In the evening, the group returns to Leblanc, exhausted after their day of travel. Akira makes sure to thank everyone profusely; he cannot imagine how they must feel, having to look at the same sights they are so used to after living here for so long. And yet they had endured, for him.

Sojiro brings out a birthday cake he picked up while everyone was away from Leblanc, and Akira is given dibs on the first slice. He chooses the smallest, at which Ann huffs and serves him two hearty slices. Ryuji starts to complain, but backs off when Ann shoots him a glare.

"So scary," Ryuji mumbles as Ann takes it upon herself to dish everyone up herself.

The cake is fluffy and sweet; the top garnished with fresh strawberries instead of candles. Akira cannot remember the last time he tasted something this delicious since leaving Tokyo.

He is able to stay out of the bathroom until nighttime, after everyone has left. While he is not afraid of whatever he felt earlier — it was, in essence, himself — it is still not something he wishes to confront. The stickiness of the cake remnants coating his teeth eventually force him into the bathroom, and at first, his eyes avoid the mirror. When he ends up taking a peek, it is the same reflection he is used to: messy black hair and those large-framed glasses.

Looking at the mirror might be what causes it, Akira realizes, as the feeling returns. The air is thick, as if his own breath is intermingling with that of another. He wonders what his friends might think if they saw him like this; so weak to something that does not even exist. Perhaps it is a side effect from his many travels into the Metaverse, but that does not explain why he is experiencing this now.

 _They had a name for me back then,_  Akira remembers, touching the rim of his glasses as he thinks of the eerie mask he once donned.

_Joker._

That one word is all it seems to take to invoke his other self, and now, it is Joker staring at him through the mirror, his eyes as wide as Akira’s own. He tells himself it has to be nothing; it is just his emotions manifesting in some way. His Joker persona had been taxing, and it changed him as a person.

Telling himself over and over that this is not real cannot stop the arousal coursing through him. There is something in those gray eyes — his eyes — that grabs his attention and holds it. The way those gloved hands grip the the edge of the sink; Akira remembers how they felt on his own hands.

Joker always emanated confidence and indulgence, unlike Akira. They are the same, and yet different — where Akira finds joy in being a good person and accomplishing his goals, Joker found pleasure in extravagant battles and plots to steal hearts. Akira felt pride in the positive aftermath of stealing hearts, but Joker lived for those forays into Palaces and the depths of Mementos.

When he tries to crack a grin, like the ones Joker always used to do, it turns out lopsided and awkward. The only one here to judge him is his reflection of Joker in the mirror, and Joker has no critique to share.

 _He’s not really here._  Akira catches himself as he gives sentience to his other self, but he does not amend his thoughts. His hands are busying themselves with undoing his belt and touching himself through the front of his pants. It looks so much better when he sees Joker mimicking the actions in the mirror: those red gloves fondling himself, with that curved, embellished mask to hide his face.

This is the closest he has felt to Joker in over a month, and Akira realizes that might have to do with his current proximity to everything that happened. If anything, Leblanc in particular should be a place to cherish his memories — the good and the bad — rather than sullying it by masturbating to Joker's image in the mirror.

 _Myself,_  Akira thinks, correcting himself, although at this point, he is not even sure if it matters.

* * *

Compared to Akira’s hometown, Tokyo was deafening; shops were open late, and people were out and about during all hours of the day. He misses it more than he thought he would, after having that taste of his old life back. Texting his friends is not the same as being alongside them to share in all their joy and woe.

His parents are away on a trip, and the house is much quieter than he is used to. With every room of the house empty, he should feel alone, but that does not seem to bother him.

Akira does not realize he brought something home with him.

Every time he is in the bathroom, he glances at his reflection. Over and over he makes excuses to look into that mirror again.

_I think I left the light on._

_I left my phone in the bathroom._

_I need to wash my hands._

His hands are dry from the amount of times he has washed them, and yet again, he finds another excuse to head into the bathroom.

 _I need lotion,_  he tells himself, even as he stares at Joker in the mirror. _Lotion._

If he does not commit Joker’s appearance to memory now, he thinks he might lose him entirely. Never has he been able to view his other self so vividly and without interruption. He watches his reflection bat his eyelids at him, copying his own movements, and he bites his lip, his pants growing tighter.

It is when Joker smirks — that trademark grin of his — that Akira succumbs. There is no way he could have replicated it so well himself, and for a second he thinks it might really be Joker in there, but he shakes his head. It is impossible, and simply wish fulfillment; the thought that something might be very wrong does not deter him from shoving his hand into his pants and rubbing himself.

 _What am I even doing?_ Akira wonders, not expecting a coherent answer from himself or Joker as he stares into those eyes thinning with pleasure; that mouth as it gasps, eliciting the most arousing sounds Akira has ever heard. It his own voice, but so much more.

Akira’s cock is slick with pre-come, and the lewd sounds of his fervent strokes fill the bathroom. He tries to distance himself by losing himself in Joker’s eyes, because right now, they feel so separate it almost hurts. Without thinking about the potential repercussions, Akira leans forward, the backs of his legs straining as he reaches out to brace himself against the counter. Closer, closer, until he is staring right into those eyes, and he leans in to press his lips against that smirk. He runs his tongue slowly along the cold, hard glass — a weak imitation of what he desires — before stepping back to wrap his hand around himself again.

 _This is ridiculous,_  Akira thinks, but that does not stop him from moaning when he comes, the jolt from his orgasm coursing through him as he continues to thrust weakly into his hand.

* * *

Ever since he was released from jail, Akira has studied hard to catch up on the schoolwork he missed. He even often receives top marks in his class, and the attention can be overwhelming, as his classmates gossip and whisper about him — “isn’t he the criminal who got sent away for a year?” — but Akira is never deterred.

_Their opinions are worthless, anyways._

Akira stops in the middle of the hallway on his way to lunch. He shakes his head at the intrusive thought, as it does not feel like his own.

_I didn’t mean that. I don’t even know them. They just don’t understand._

Something in him laughs; a faraway sound that echoes through his head.

_And you hate that, don’t you? The way they sneer at you?_

The argument shoots back and forth, and Akira knows he cannot win, so he stops trying. Deep down, there must be some resentment toward his peers for judging him so harshly, without even attempting to learn the truth, but at the surface level, it seems so petty.

 _You know it’s true,_  the voice inside him says. Akira does not bother to reply.

On his way home from school, he takes his time window shopping at the stores along the street. After taking the train, he still has a twenty minute walk home. The shops here are more spread out than in Tokyo, some even separated by half a block, and there are more local stores than big name brand ones.

There are mannequins in one of the stores he stops in front of. They are set up in contorted positions, their arms bent to imitate human life, and Akira notices a flyer in the window. Some sort of “end of spring blowout sale” is happening at this store to rid themselves of all their unsold spring fashions.

On one of the mannequins is a pair of gloves: a light, springy pink, and almost pastel. But the fabric does not match the gloves he remembers in his head, anyways — this pair looks a bit fuzzy, and more practical for warmth. What he is looking for is the soft kind; that artificial material that fits so smoothly around his hand, like it was made for him.

 _You like gloves,_ the voice says. It is not taunting, like earlier, and it sounds curious, as if he cannot believe his own desires.

 _Do I?_  Akira shakes his head. He was just thinking about gloves for winter, and it does not have to mean anything that he was gravitating toward a familiar fabric and color.

 _You think about them wrapping around that pretty little throat of yours._  There is that laugh again, deep and mocking. _The gloves you’re picturing are red, aren’t they?_

Akira shudders. It is another argument he cannot seem to win, and he wonders why he has been so at odds with himself lately. While the thoughts are intrusive, it is his own voice that he hears, so he tries to shrug off the unsettling feeling.

When he arrives home, the house is dark and quiet, as his parents are still off on their trip. After he drops his bag in his room, he heads into the bathroom to take a shower, the water cool against his skin. That ominous sensation of not feeling alone is still here, but he no longer finds it suffocating; if anything, it is almost a comfort.

It is when he glances at the mirror afterward that everything starts to feel off again. Joker’s appearance is still held in his reflection, much to Akira’s relief, but Joker is fully clothed, compared to his own naked body. The contrast between them — Akira’s pale skin and the darkness of Joker’s whole ensemble — causes him to drop the shirt he just grabbed. Maybe he expected Joker’s clothes to disappear with his own, and in his head, the idea sounds logical, but there he is, not an inch of skin showing more than usual. He is not smirking like the last time, although Akira accepted that as a fluke of his imagination, but the sudden vulnerability of the situation strikes him.

Disregarding the shower he took only moments before, he starts stroking his semi-hard length, his eyes staring at the mirror while his mind focuses on the fact that he is naked. Joker watches him in turn, and Akira imagines his stony eyes are raking across his body, reveling in the sight. He thinks of those gloves wrapping around his cock, and he gasps at the whir of arousal this rings through him, his knees growing weak at the thought.

"Looks like you're having fun," a voice says, permeating the room Akira once thought of as empty. It is so like his own, but deeper, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it was Joker who spoke. Akira thins his eyes, half considering whether or not he should clean his glasses, when, again, there is nothing out of place with Joker in the mirror.

 _Except that he's there at all,_  Akira thinks. He wonders at what point he came to expect his own reflection to be that of his other self.

"Why'd you stop?" Joker asks, and this time, Akira's eyes are on his mouth, and he sees his lips clearly moving. That voice is his own, and yet it knows just how to set his body on fire. "Keep going."

 _I have to be imagining this._  Whatever has been happening has slipped into dangerous territory. _I have to do...something._

His "something" for the moment is to squeeze the tip of his cock until he is panting, and when he come into his hand, Joker has nothing more to say.

* * *

When Akira tries to ask Morgana about it later that night, he struggles to find the words to explain what has been occurring for the past few months. Admitting to his friend that he has been masturbating almost everyday to his reflection in the mirror — who is decidedly not quite himself — is not something he ever thought he would have to do. Instead, Akira apologizes for seeming so off lately, and he gives Morgana a can of tuna for the trouble.

In the morning, Akira heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth, as there is no avoiding it. He could brush them in the kitchen, but he would have had to grab his toothpaste and toothbrush in the bathroom, anyways; unless he was desperate enough to buy some just to keep outside of the bathroom, and he has not hit that point yet.

Looking into the mirror is awkward, like Akira is staring into the eyes of someone he recently fought with. He supposes this is at least partially true, as he has been so at odds with himself as of late, but his reflection does not even feel like himself anymore.

Especially not when Joker laughs that deep, hearty chuckle of his.

"How long have you been here?" Akira asks, not sure whether he is humoring himself now or speaking to a separate entity.

Joker tilts his head, thinking for a moment before he replies. "I've always been here, I guess."

"And you haven't said anything?" Akira gawks in disbelief at the thought of it actually being Joker in the mirror when he has been touching himself. "Can you...control yourself? What I see in the mirror."

When Joker grins again, Akira feels his heart dropping in embarrassment.

"Of course."

"Then why didn't you? Why did you let me convince myself I was losing my mind?"

Joker rests his chin on his hand, those red gloves bringing out even more shame in Akira. "It was more fun to watch you."

Akira does his best to ignore the way they make his heart beat erratically, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he continues his interrogation. "Can anyone hear you?"

"Dunno." Joker grins. "You want to see and find out?"

 _What a ridiculous question,_  Akira thinks, and Joker smiles again. _Ah._

"So you're the one who's been talking in my head."

 _That annoying voice,_  Akira adds.

_You think it's hot._

When Joker sticks his tongue out to tease him, Akira flushes. He can see it mirrored on Joker's face, and whether it is Joker taunting him — as he had said he can control his own actions — or something else, he is not quite sure.

* * *

With summer break comes the expectation that Akira will return to Tokyo for a visit. He is still reading everyone’s text messages, but he has difficulty connecting their plans with reality.

He and Joker have been spending every day together; although Joker has the ability to talk in his head, they have been communicating through the bathroom mirror more often than not. While in front of the mirror, Akira can hear him talk, and it is different than the somewhat muffled voice in his head. Their interactions have become a comfort for him, and the idea that he will not have access to this when he needs it — including their frequent bouts of masturbation — gnaws at him.

As Akira packs for his trip, Joker hits him with his usual taunts.

_You really think you’ll be able to handle a week without touching yourself constantly?_

_No,_  Akira thinks. _I won’t._

When he arrives in Tokyo, his friends act like they did the last time he visited; as if he never left. He is delighted as his friends envelop him in their circle again, updating him on all the latest stories around Tokyo, as well as what everyone has been up to.

Akira still misses Joker, though; the clarity of his voice when they speak in the bathroom, and the way his eyes peer into him, more deeply than anyone could ever dream of. When he is at Leblanc, he looks over at the bathroom door enough for Ryuji to mention it — “you need to take a piss or something? Just go, man” — and when they are out shopping, he is thinking of the tiny bathroom. At some point along the way, his relationship with Joker became a crutch for him, out in his hometown where he has no friends. But now that he is back in Tokyo for the week, he should be focusing on his friends, and not this ardent craving of his.

They return to Leblanc for lunch, and Akira takes the opportunity to slip into the bathroom. With the light off, the thought that Joker might not even be here crosses his mind, and his hand fumbles along the wall to hit the light switch.

When light fills the room, Akira sees Joker in the mirror, stretching his arms — reminding Akira that this is real, and everything that has happened these past few months has been real, too.

“You’re still worried about that?” Joker asks, referring to Akira’s inability to trust that things will remain as they have been. Akira does not want this to end, whatever it is, while Joker seems to treat their relationship as if he would not care if, one day, they were to be separated again.

Not knowing what to say, Akira grips the edges of the sink to steady himself as he nods. When he has something tangible to hold onto like this, it makes it easier for him to accept that this is all still reality.

“You’re doing great,” Joker murmurs, oddly supportive, despite knowing how obsessive Akira has become about wanting to see him. Joker reaches out to touch his side of the mirror, and Akira mimics the action. Where their fingers meet is a comforting warmth, and relief washes over him.

Back in the main room of Leblanc, Ann is the only one left sitting in the booth that had been full a few minutes before. She waves him over, explaining how she herded everyone else out on an errand.

“I’m surprised they listened,” Akira says, and Ann shakes her head.

“They knew that I wanted to speak with you alone.” She flips her long pigtails behind her shoulders, leaning in closer to the table. “Everyone but Yusuke, that is. Makoto had to drag him out.”

 _She wants to talk to me?_  An unsettling feeling crawls into Akira’s stomach.

“I’ve been worried about you,” she continues. “Everyone has, actually. Even Yusuke — or especially Yusuke, I should say. He feels like he’s lost his muse.”

“I guess I haven’t been out here in a long time. I really should have made the effort to come sooner. I’m sorry.”

“That isn’t what I meant. You’re barely answering anyone’s texts. We figured you were just busy at first, but then —”

Ann huffs, wiping at her eyes, and the guilt makes Akira’s chest clench as he realizes how much he has been making his friends worry.

“Can I be honest with you, Ann?” Although he decided a while back that his relationship with Joker should remain a secret, as he has no idea how to even explain it in a coherent manner, he feels like he owes her an explanation of some sort.

She reaches out to squeeze his hand on the table. “Of course.”

“I’ve kind of started seeing someone.”

 _Is that what this is?_ he wonders. Joker does not correct him.

“O-oh.” Ann’s face flushes. “I suppose that explains a lot.”

Even his grades have been slipping a bit because of all the time he spends with Joker, but Akira does not mention this to Ann. He tries not to think about it for too long, either, as if it could be possible to hide anything in his head from Joker.

“And you care about them a lot? This person.” Ann taps her chin in thought.

“I guess I’ve been a little distracted lately,” Akira admits. The fact that he has become so distanced from his friends, despite their best efforts, hurts him. He is the one who decided to return to his hometown to finish school, even though everyone told him he did not have to leave. It was his choice, and because of the distance, he expected himself to work harder to retain his friendships.

_Maybe it’s time to end this._

* * *

Akira waits until he is back home to bring up the subject with Joker. He is brushing his teeth, still in his pajamas, while Joker is reclined in the mirror, tossing that knife of his around. Every time Joker snatches it in mid-air, Akira flinches.

“Can you maybe not do that right now?”

When Joker looks at him, his eyes dark, without even his trademark grin to lighten the mood, Akira sighs.

_He knows. Of course he does._

“I think we should stop what we’re doing,” Akira says, setting his toothbrush back in its holder. He watches as Joker runs a gloved finger along the blade of his knife.

“Sweet, innocent Akira,” his other self drawls, his voice low and taunting, like usual. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Akira sputters at this, with some of his spit landing on the mirror. It feels like an affront to Joker, so he hurries to wipe it off with a sheet of toilet paper. “I...didn’t know we were dating.”

“It’s not like I’ve been doing this sort of thing with anyone else,” Joker says. Despite the likelihood of it being impossible for him to interact with anyone else at this point, the thought still soothes Akira. Whatever he is feeling is not just in his head, then; Joker reciprocates his feelings to an extent.

Joker continues: “If you’re really worried about your friends and school, though — how about we make a deal?”

Akira’s first thought is that deal with a Trickster sounds akin to a deal with the devil, and Joker smiles.

“I won’t seduce you as often.” This time, when Akira sputters, he is able to cover his mouth with his hand before he defiles Joker again.

“That sounds reasonable,” Akira replies, thinking that lessening their sexual activity to a few times a week could work.

“How about once a month?” When Akira glares at him, Joker smiles, almost sweetly, as he bats his eyes at him. “Or, no — I have a better idea: not until you finish your exams in October.”

“You’re joking.”

“Let’s just take this slower,” Joker offers. “Start over.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Let’s try,” Joker says, reaching out to Akira. Their hands touch the mirror — so close, and yet so far — and Akira leans in to kiss him, the glass of the mirror cold against his lips.

* * *

Joker keeps his promise, and the most they do now is kiss. Whenever Akira’s frustration bubbles over, he touches himself in his bed, rather than in the bathroom. Doing it on his bed feels strange now, like it was never a place he felt comfortable masturbating, even before Joker’s manifestation.

It is not satisfying at all, especially not when Joker gives him a small form of privacy by not commentating. Joker promised, but this is not what he wanted at all.

_Why did I have to suggest we stop?_

Akira’s grades start to improve, at least. When mid-terms arrive, each minute seems to stretch into an hour as he pleads for exams to be over.

“You’ll be on break soon,” Joker notes on the third day of mid-terms. “Do me a favor? Buy some gloves.”

“Why?” A shudder creeps up Akira’s spine at the implication, as well as the timing.

Joker is tossing that knife of his around again, and Akira watches it flip in the air, mesmerized. “Just do it. And soon.”

The day he finishes exams, Akira stops at the strip of clothing stores on his way home. There are more gloves on display now for autumn, as well as the upcoming winter chill, so the selection this time is much more diverse.

He does not have to be told that the pair of gloves he needs to buy are red; lighter than the color of blood, but just as ominous, at least when it relates to Joker.

When Akira arrives home, he heads into the bathroom, and Joker nods approvingly at the gloves on his hands.

“We’re going to do something a little different today,” Joker croons. “Is that okay?”

Without knowing what he means by “different,” Akira struggles to wrap his head around a coherent response. With Joker, “different” could be anything, and he feels his heart race as he lets his mind wander. He is not left in the dark too long as Joker shrugs off his trench coat, and begins to unzip his shirt.

 _Wait._ Akira does not mean it as a command — he is just surprised, as Joker has never taken his clothes off like this before, preferring to just pull down his pants when they are intimate — but his other self stops unzipping halfway down his shirt.

“I didn’t mean stop,” Akira says, pressing his gloved hands against the mirror to touch Joker's. “Sorry.”

When Joker is naked in front of him, other than his mask and gloves, he runs his hand down his own chest. He teases his nipples as he stares through the mirror, and Akira has to catch his breath as he can almost feel his own just aching to be touched. As he touches himself, he focuses on the fabric of the gloves: soft, and so different, like Joker had said.

When his other self wraps his hand around his erection, Akira copies him, gasping at the feeling. He sinks into the fantasy, and with Joker laid bare before him, it is so much easier than when he was masturbating alone in bed.

_Were you watching me when I did it? All those times when I was alone?_

“Imagine it’s me touching you,” Joker demands, his voice shaky with arousal. Hearing his other self so into it stirs him up to no end. “Imagine it’s my hand around you.”

“It _is_ you,” Akira gasps before he comes.

* * *

After what Akira thinks of as the “glove incident,” he decides to apply for a part-time job. After his and Joker’s brief intermission — although thinking back, it feels like it lasted years — he became better at handling the various aspects in his life: friends, school, Joker. Adding a part-time job to the mix would not disrupt his life too much, and in an attempt to keep some semblance of a secret, he tries not to dwell on why he took the job.

 _I thought you wanted to focus on your friends and school,_ Joker says one day. Since Akira is at work, his voice comes in through his head, and while it is a bit muffled, he thinks he can almost hear a hint of frustration.

_Shut up._

Within a few days, he has enough saved up for the item of his dreams. He stops by the store again, his palms sweaty as he tries to hide his intention for just a moment longer as he slinks into the right aisle.

"Oh," Joker says, his voice clear. "I can see why you wanted that job, then."

In front of Akira is an array of mirrors, all different shapes and sizes. Some are small and rounded, with exquisite trims of gleaming silver, but what Akira is after is the largest full-length mirror he can find. Joker is snickering now, calling him dirty and telling him everything he plans on doing with him when they make it back home.

 _Can’t I do anything by myself?_ Akira sighs, not wanting to bring attention to himself by speaking with Joker here.

"I mean, I could stop talking. But where’s the fun in that? Other than that, no, not really."

When the mirror is set up in Akira's bedroom, he wastes no time in shedding his clothes. With the mirror so close to the edge of his bed, it feels even more intimate now, as he no longer has to strain himself leaning over the bathroom sink.

"Can you keep your clothes on today?" Akira requests, at which Joker calls him kinky, and while that may be true enough — after everything they have been through — he shakes his head. "It's just easier for me to imagine it's you when I can...tell the difference."

While he has always found the idea of watching himself masturbate appealing — and thanks to Joker, this dream became a reality in more ways than one — he came to prefer viewing his other self as something else: another person. Maybe he is not human in the way Akira is, but he is real to him; so real, he can feel the warmth when their lips touch the mirror.

As he retrieves his supplies for the evening from his nightstand, Joker watches him, and he flushes as he leans back on the bed, completely exposed now. First, he slips on those red gloves before lathering his fingers up with lube.

Joker is in for a show tonight.

After propping himself up on his pillows, he uses his left hand to finger himself. He always imagined this would be easier, as if a quick preparation would be all he needed. The second finger burns even more than the first, his entrance painfully tight as he wiggles his fingers around, trying to find pleasure.

"Relax," Joker says, as he slowly strokes himself.

At the sound of his voice, Akira does begin to ease, and with it, the pain begins to recede. He adds more lube before thrusting his fingers in and out quicker now; the sensation is strange and not altogether pleasant, but the feeling of being filled makes him moan. In his head, it is Joker's fingers inside him, and, in the bliss of fantasy, his cock. He wonders if Joker is seeing what he is thinking about right now; how badly he wants him.

When he finds that sensitive spot — that bundle of nerves — he thrusts his hips up, gasping. He moves his fingers faster now, craving that tingling feeling every time he touches it, as if he is on the brink of orgasm already. With his other hand, he grabs his cock, fighting to keep his eyes open as sweat drips down his legs. His arms ache from the position, but when he looks at Joker, it makes it all worth the effort: his mouth is open as he pants, his hand moving so quickly on himself that Akira can hear the erotic sounds of his pre-come slicking up his hand.

With Joker, he never lasts long, but he might be breaking a new record when he comes — more at the feeling of fullness and the constant pressure against his prostate, if he is being honest, than the hand wrapped around his length. They will have to do this again, and soon; Akira is not sure how he will ever be able to come again without having something inside of him.

Akira flops back on the bed, his muscles aching from the awkward position. He rolls over to face the mirror — his Joker.

"I wish you were here," he says, reaching out to touch Joker's face.

His other self smiles. "I am here. Always."

"I mean really here," Akira protests stubbornly , and he thinks he can almost feel a gentle hand touch his hair, but Joker has not moved.

"I know," Joker says. They share another kiss through the cold glass, and this time, it takes a long time for Akira to pull away.


End file.
